


And One And Two And

by anna_unfolding



Category: Olympics RPF, Original Work
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Secret Crush, Sports Rivalry, Synchronized Diving, Team Bonding, Team USA, rivals-to-teammates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7716460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_unfolding/pseuds/anna_unfolding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It'd be easier for Corey if he liked his dive partner more. Or maybe less. Yeah, 'less' would make it easier.</p><p>~or~</p><p>Can a trip to a dive bar and a game of darts fix Corey and Tony's communication and timing problems?</p>
            </blockquote>





	And One And Two And

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago on themes that were really important to me at the time, and today's synchronized dive final reminded me that I ought to post it sometime. Huge caveat that I know next to nothing about diving, and certainly simplified and rushed (and got wrong) all sorts of procedures like coaching, how partners get chosen, etc. Not meant to be accurate about Olympic diving!

Corey got out of the car and pulled his hood tight around his face as he jogged through the wet night up to Jameson’s house and around the side. His hair was still damp from the shower at the pool; he’d stayed an extra hour after Tony’d cleared out with a nonchalant _Later, dude,_ , to see if he could get his take-off polished. It hadn’t helped. Giving a sigh, Corey gave the usual two quick firm tugs on the side gate latch, then a gentle one, and the gate gave way.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, blocking the narrow space as he yanked the gate shut behind him. The little terrier at his feet gave up trying to squeeze past him and instead turned to jumping up onto his legs and wagging her tail. “Hey, Lulu, hey.” Corey bent down to give her a good scratch behind the ears, and pulled a small biscuit out of his pocket for her. “Here you go; good girl, what a good girl,” he murmured. 

Lulu took it and trotted ahead of him towards the back porch, biscuit crunching in her mouth. Corey wiped the layer of wet night air from his face onto the sleeve of his hoodie and followed, sliding open the glass door and entering the kitchen. 

“Corey! Hey, come in,” a woman said from on top of the island where she was changing the light bulb in the fixture. “Did it get wet out? You look like you just climbed out of the pool.”

Corey laughed. “Well I did, kind of. But yeah, it’s drizzling.”

“Lulu’s going to track mud everywhere,” she muttered. “Could you…?” She gestured toward the towel by the door, but Corey was already on it. “I’d get you something to drink but,” she shrugged, holding out a hand that had a dusty light bulb in it.

“No problem, Maura,” he said, toweling Lulu off with a rag hanging by her water bowl and then grabbing a Vitamin water from the fridge. “Coach in the study?” he asked, already almost through the doorway that led down the hall.

“No, they’re in the living room; hey, can you take this?” She reached out and passed him the dead bulb. 

Corey took it and tossed it in the trash under the sink. “They?” he asked.

“Oh, Tony is here, too; didn’t Jamie say?”

Corey shut the cabinet door, a smack resounding in the small kitchen. “I must have forgotten,” he said, giving her a tight smile and heading through the dining area towards the front of the house, Lulu leading the way.

“He made it!” Jameson said, standing and gesturing for Corey to sit on the couch next to Tony. “We were wondering if the rain slowed you down.”

Tony’s leg was bent so that his bare foot rested on his knee, and he was holding a beer in his hand. Corey could see the bottom point of the sword tattoo, stretching upwards and disappearing underneath Tony’s pant leg. He nodded hello to Corey.

Corey swallowed. “I thought we were meeting at eight,” he said, turning back to Jameson.

“Nah, 7:30, dude,” Tony said from the couch. “But it’s cool, we started reviewing the film. I can fill you in.”

Corey took a deep breath, already irritated, and looked to the television where the film was paused on an image of two sets of legs, one darker and one lighter, halfway out of the water. Corey’s angle of entry was a little off but at least his legs were together, which was more than he could say for Tony, who was also a half a body-length further out than Corey was.

Corey sat. “This from today?”

“Yep. Let me show you.” Jameson sat in the chair close to the screen and clicked a few things on his laptop. Now the entire dive played from the start. Corey watched himself rock his head from side to side atop the platform, a pre-dive ritual he kept even in practice. The Tony on the film was bouncing in a low crouch, swinging his arms in front of his body; a stretch Corey was familiar with from the dozens of singles meets they’d competed at over the years before Jameson talked them into doing tandem less than a month ago.

“Ready?” he heard Tony say in the video. 

“Yeah,” the video Corey said, a little stiffly. Corey let out a huff of a laugh from the couch.

Next to him, Tony leaned in a little and said, “It doesn’t actually help if you’re pissed at me before the dive even begins.”

Corey bit his lip and reeled in the desire to turn to Tony and push him out of his space. On the screen were lining up together, backs to the water. “Yeah, and it doesn’t actually help you catch up with me if you part your legs,” he said.

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t rush your twists.”

“Guys,” Jameson said. “Shut up for a second and watch. It’s not in the twists or the entry. It’s the take off.” He clicked a few things and the clip started over in ultra slow motion.

Corey was used to studying himself on film; it had been a mainstay of Jameson’s coaching technique even before he was selected to coach the Olympic team. And of course, Corey had watched Tony dive before. But now he could linger; he had permission. He was supposed to watch. So what if Jameson expected them to each be looking at themselves up there. It wasn’t like Tony would be able to tell that Corey was watching him, instead. 

No one would be able to tell.

Tony’s arms swung from his torso in perfect grace and rhythm. And when he stood from his crouch, it was in one fluid motion. He didn’t even adjust or widen his stance. _It had to be in slow motion, too,_ Corey thought, staring at Tony’s hips and letting out a sigh as he fell back against the couch. His shoulder blades hit Tony’s arm where Tony’d stretched it across the couch, and Corey stiffened.

“Jesus, relax,” Tony said, low in Corey’s ear, his arm bending at the elbow so that he could place a firm palm on Corey’s shoulder closest to him.

“I’m relaxed,” Corey said, turning his face just slightly towards Tony, who all the sudden was a warm presence along his side. He shivered a little and let himself fall against Tony, just slightly, and Tony pressed his palm down, rubbing Corey’s shoulder a little bit.

“That’s right,” Tony said, like he approved of Corey leaning into him, and then they were quiet as they watched themselves line up on the platform together, their arms stretched out at their sides. It looked like their finger tips were going to touch as they raised their arms, but just before their hands would have met, they both swung them down and up as they took off.

Corey watched Tony’s torso tighten and twist in the air, his arm curling around his body as he spun. Corey’s abs tightened reflexively from where he rested on the couch; he knew this dive, knew how difficult it was to combine the required power with the seamless motion the way Tony seemed to do with ease. Tony really was a beautiful diver, all smooth muscle and fluid motion. But he was a half a body behind Corey at entry, and Corey had no idea how that’d happened.

The film stopped as Jameson rewound it to the moment they took off. “It’s here. There’s a moment you’re totally in synch.” It was true; with their arms outstretched, they looked like a pair of dancers on a stage. “But then,” he broke off and the film played another few seconds, again in slow motion. “at take-off, you’re not on the same page at all.”

When looking at them both together instead of one at a time, Corey could see that Tony’s grace and Corey’s own skill looked only like a jumble of limbs in mid-air. Jameson cleared his throat. “I think that’s what you’d call a hot mess.” He raised his eyebrows at them and Corey let out his breath. Jameson rewound it again and paused it on the image of them with their backs to the pool, their arms outstretched and their fingertips almost touching. 

He turned to face them and spoke. “I want you to practice your timing, your synchronicity of take-off. Tonight.”

Tony pulled his hand from Corey’s shoulder and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Pool’s taken, Coach; I don’t think—”

“This has nothing to do with the pool. This is about you and you,” he said, pointing to them in turn, “attuning to each other and nailing down your timing.”

Corey frowned. How would they practice their starting position and take-off if they weren’t on the platform?

“But if we can’t,” Tony began.

“You’re both clever; Jesus, you each have more smarts than I have; Maura always says so.” He let out a laugh. “Get out of here and go figure it out. Practice in your living room; go shoot hoops together, I don’t care. But you will come to practice tomorrow having perfected your take-off timing; is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” they said together. 

**

That’s how Corey ended up at a dive bar playing darts with longtime rival Antonio Dawson, eleven days after their first tandem dive, and four weeks before they were set to head to Knoxville for their team training before flying to Rio.

“You’d shoot better if you just relaxed.”

Corey dropped his elbow and turned to face Tony. “Would to quit telling me to relax?”

Tony refilled their glasses with the pitcher of Rolling Rock. “As soon as you relax, I’ll stop saying it.”

“I don’t think that’s how relaxing actually works.” Corey said under his breath. He reached out and Tony handed him his glass. Corey took a sip. “But you keep trying and I’ll keep not relaxing and maybe one day you’ll—”

“It worked at Coach’s house,” Tony said with a shrug, standing and moving into Corey’s space. “Come on,” he said, and Corey stepped back, handing him the darts.

“What do you mean, it worked?”

“You know what I mean,” Tony said. Corey barely had time to register the memory of a firm hand on his shoulder and that taught torso warm against his side before Tony continued. “And get over here, asshole. We’re trying it again. And don’t be jumping out, dude. You wait like we practiced, yeah?”

Corey sighed, put his drink down and nodded. “Fine, give me a dart.” He took his place to Tony’s left. They’d figured out that much; they’d been diving from the wrong side of each other. Corey stretched his neck and Tony swung his arms. Their motion stilled and they each brought their shooting hand up in front of their face. 

“On me, on my count. Yeah?” Tony said, voice low and serious.

“Yeah,” Corey breathed.

“And one and two and,” Tony said as they each pulled back at his silent _three_ and shot their darts at the unspoken _four_. 

“Mutha fuckas get out!” Tony shouted, and Corey whooped after their darts hit the red with a simultaneous _thwack_. The bar was mostly empty; it was a Wednesday night, after all, but a few heads looked up at them as they high-fived each other, laughing. Tony wrapped his hand around Corey’s and pulled him close. “That’s my _boy_!” he said, and ruffled Corey’s hair before releasing him and heading to the bathroom. “Shots! I want shots, Tomlinson!” he called as he walked away.

Corey’s face flushed as he brought his own fingers through his hair where Tony’d touched him. He yanked on it, just a little, letting out a breath that was almost a whine before grabbing the empty pitcher and heading to the bar. 

**

“And ONE and TWO and,” Tony said, and they tossed back their shots, slamming the shot glasses down on the bar, Corey’s hitting a split second before Tony’s. 

Corey coughed and laughed, knocking his knee against Tony’s leg. “That’s on you, bro. I am _not_ rushing. What?” he said at Tony’s expression. “I’m not!”

Tony was cracking up into his hand and shaking his head. “Yes you were; yes you were, Corey-baby,” he said, and then looked to the bartender. “Madam Imelda, the judge from, from, wait, where you from honey?”

Imelda sighed and took their glasses away. “Los Angeles, mi’jo. And yes, he’s always going first.”

Tony stood up and raised both hands in the air. “Los Angeles _mi’jo_ , ohhhh!” He high-fived her, turning back to Corey. “Did you hear that, CBT? Mi’jo. That’s me. Coz I’m charming like that.”

Corey took a cocktail napkin and wiped down the bar in front of them. “Well that just proves that the judge hailing from Los Angeles is, is, composed, no, compromised? Wait, what’s it when you can’t be partial? No, impartial?” But Tony was too busy laughing at him to answer. Corey balled up the napkin and pegged him with it, standing and swaying a little bit. “I!” he called out to the bar at large, “am not! Rushing!” and he turned to head to the bathroom.

“Okay, hold up, I gotta piss too,” Tony said. “Wait. Let’s do it. From here to the bathroom.”

Corey nodded, lining himself up on Tony’s left and stilling his body.

“Yeah?” Tony said.

“Yeah,” Corey said.

“And one and two and,” Tony began, and they walked in precise tandem out of the main bar area to the bathroom hallway, laughing when Tony pushed through the door.

“That time you rushed; you’re here first,” Corey said.

“Nah, I just beat you is all.” Tony turned and faced Corey, walking backwards toward the urinals and undoing his belt.

Corey sighed. “Jesus Christ, Tony, it’s not a race or I’d have won a million times over already. And your form, your shot-taking form? For the record, is garbage.”

Tony turned, unbuttoned his fly, and began to piss. “If by _garbage_ you mean world-class, then sure.”

Corey stepped beside him and unzipped. It was quiet for a moment, save the sound of their piss.

Then Tony spoke. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name, did you know that?”

Corey frowned. “What, ‘Tony’? I say it all the time.”

“No, no you don’t,” Tony said.

Corey’s face got hot. He finished peeing and buttoned up. “What’s CBT?”

“Hmm?”

“You called me CBT and dude, you don’t even know my middle name, so what gives?”

They went to wash their hands, and Tony smiled for a moment before answering. “Corey-baby Tomlinson, natch.”

Corey wiped his hands on his jeans. “You are not calling me Corey-baby ever again.”

“Oh-kay, CBT,” Tony said, his voice slow. He stepped next to Corey, knocking into his side, that warm stretch of body pressing again from Corey’s shoulder to his thigh. Corey felt his pulse quicken, which was ridiculous. This was their starting position, and this was Tony, drunk and affectionate with a teammate, and Corey was not, _not_ going to encourage an unrequited crush on a hot straight athlete with a dagger tattoo that he hadn’t even liked until tonight; he was _not_.

But Tony was saying, “Here to the door,” and “Yeah?” and Corey breathed, “Yeah,” and Tony said “and one and two,” and Corey moved forward.

But Tony’s fingers were gripping Corey’s hair near the base of his neck, tugging him back, and Corey let out a gasp and fell back against him.

“Relax, Cor, relax; you gotta wait for it,” he said, his voice hushed and his breath hitting the back of Corey’s neck. Tony was so close that it might have been a brush of his lips that Corey felt. Corey couldn’t help it; he shuddered, and Tony made a small sound at that, his fingers tightening in Corey’s hair as he brought his other hand up to rest, heavy and warm, on Corey’s shoulder, just like he had at Jameson’s.

“Tony,” Corey said, and he didn’t know if he was cautioning or pleading, but those were Tony’s lips against his skin for sure now, and Corey’s knees pooled as Tony moved his hand to Corey’s hip and pulled him closer still.

“We’re so good when you wait for it, Cor. Can you wait for my say so?” 

His fingers slid through Corey’s hair, tugging back and forth right at the nape of Corey’s neck like a reprimand, and Corey dropped his head and said, voice cracking and wrecked, “Tell me,” and he broke off to clear his throat. “Tell me what to do.”

“Fuck, yes,” Tony breathed, pushing them forward. Corey reached out to brace himself against the wall next to the bathroom exit. Tony was warm and heavy behind him, and _Christ_ , Corey could feel Tony’s dick against the back of his thigh. 

“I want,” he said.

Tony tightened his fist in Corey’s hair again, and Corey let out a breath that sounded like a small groan.

Tony’s voice was low. “I’m thinking I already know what you want.” His teeth pulled along Corey’s neck and Corey blinked, silenced by the truth of it. This was exactly what he wanted. Tony pulled him away from the wall and guided them into the one stall in the room, turning Corey and pushing his back against the metal wall but holding his arms between them so their bodies weren’t touching. Tony was _right there,_ Corey wanted to stop wanting, and start having.

“Come on,” Corey said, breath hitching when he raised his eyes to Tony’s face and saw his mouth open and his eyes hungry. “Let me have it, then, if you know.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, but on me, right? Yeah?”

Corey swallowed and knocked his head back against the wall, making a loud bang in the small room. “Yeah,” he let out, willing his body to wait, to listen, to stay coiled until Tony said so.

“And one, and two and,” Tony said, and released Corey on the silent three. By the time they got where four should have been, Corey had launched himself at Tony, their mouths tangling together in a crash of teeth and lips. 

Corey’s mouth burned and he shoved his hands under Tony’s jacket at his collar, getting his palms up against the thin fabric stretched over Tony’s shoulders. Tony was gripping Corey’s jaw as he licked into his mouth, making Corey swallow against his tongue and break apart to breathe.

“Jesus,” he choked out, panting a little, and Tony’s returning grin sent a wave of arousal straight down Corey’s body to his cock. It would have been a smirk if it hadn’t been so clear Tony was breathless, as well. And just as quickly, they were back on each other again, Tony’s fingers pressing around the back of Corey’s neck, and Corey’s hands hanging on Tony’s biceps as though holding himself up that way.

The length of Tony’s warm body pressed against Corey, and suddenly Corey didn’t give a fuck about mouths and arms when there was so much else to touch. In tandem, their fingertips pressed and tumbled down each other’s torsos while they lightly kissed, each landing at the other’s belt buckle at the same moment.

“See?” Tony said against Corey’s collarbone, where he’d started sucking a bruise into his skin. “Perfect.”

Corey rocked his hips forward and worked his fingers at Tony’s belt. “Come on, Tony,” he said.

But suddenly Tony’s warm body was gone, and Corey’s eyes flew up. Tony had taken his hands and pressed them over back against the wall of the stall. 

“Jesus, you’re eager,” he said, and Corey felt a wave of hot shame wash over him. He hadn’t wanted to be overly eager; wasn’t Tony also wanting this as much? Was he wrong to be eager?

“I—I’m not, I’m,” he took several breaths and turned his head to look anywhere but at Tony’s calm face. “I just,” he said.

“Hey, Corey-baby,” Tony said, his voice warm and low. “Look at me.”

Corey swallowed. He didn’t want to. But he turned to look at Tony. He could feel the heat in his cheeks but held Tony’s gaze. Tony asked him to; he could do it. And then Tony crowded close, pressing his erection against Corey’s hip, and Corey took a breath.

“You’re not fucking alone in this,” Tony said. “Don’t, okay? I didn’t mean that.” And he shifted to the side just slightly, rubbing their erections across each other, and they both groaned. Corey let his head fall back against the wall with a _clunk._

“That’s good; that’s right,” Tony was crooning in the space between them. “Give it up. That’s all. I know what _you_ want; can you give me what I want? What I say?”

Corey wanted to. He opened his eyes. “Tell me,” he said.

“Oh, that’s good,” Tony said, and Corey felt the lazy spread of seeping hot arousal seep through his body like a drug. Everything quieted except for his pulse, thick with desire and energy, pounding through his ears, and Tony’s voice. “Leave this here,” he said, twisting Corey’s left palm so that he was gripping over the top edge of the stall. He brought Corey’s other arm down to his hip. “Have you ever jerked off a dude, Cor?”

Corey swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Fuck yes, of course you have.” Tony sounded turned on and pleased, and Corey felt a rush of pride wash through him. Tony kissed Corey’s neck and began unbuttoning his fly; somehow his belt had gotten undone already. He asked, “have you ever given head?”

Corey closed his eyes and nodded, rubbing his thumb lightly across Tony’s exposed hipbone.

“Aw shit, Cor,” Tony breathed. Corey looked down. Tony had his dick out and was stroking it slowly. Corey pushed his fingertips into Tony’s side to keep himself from touching. _What I say._ If Tony wanted to jerk himself off right in front of Corey, who was more than willing to do it all, then that’s what—

“Give me your hand,” Tony said, and Corey offered it. Tony spit into it and closed it into a fist around his dick. “You’re gonna jerk me off, Cor, right here, and you’re not going to let a drop fall anywhere. Not on our clothes, not our skin, not on the floor. You understand?”

Corey could see it, what Tony wanted. He nodded, tightening his grip slightly and pulling at the edge of the stall above his head. Then a flash of panic coursed through him, jarring him almost out of his haze of arousal. 

“The stall, Tony,” he said, his hand stilling on Tony’s dick.

“Fucking. Don’t stop, Cor,” he said, thrusting up a little into Corey’s fist. It was fucking pornographic, what Tony’s hips and naked groin looked like under Corey’s hands. Practice in swimsuits was going to be a problem after this; Corey was sure. “I’ll tell you when, and you can let go. Just. Come on, come on, Cor,” he said, his voice breaking a little.

“Yeah, I got you, Tony,” Corey said. “Come closer, yeah,” he said, as Tony inched his feet closer and Corey could grip him without stretching so very far from the edge of the stall. Corey leaned forward and pressed his face against Tony’s jaw, dropping his voice. “There are a lot of places you could come, if you don’t like spilling.”

Tony let out a breathless moan and said, “Fuck,” his head dropping to Corey’s collarbone.

“You don’t like messes, Tony?” Corey asked, increasing his pace and shifting his own hips to try and get some sort of pressure on them from his jeans.

Tony shook his head, sucking back in a trail of spit he’d almost let drop on Corey’s shoulder.

“I do,” Corey said. “I’m messy as fuck about it, come all over you,” and Tony groaned again, his dick jerking a little in Corey’s hand. “Come on, give me more.” Corey let go of Tony and brought his palm up to Tony’s face like an offering. Tony let his trail of drool fall into Corey’s hand and Corey leaned in to kiss away a lingering drop on Tony’s chin. “I’ll clean you up, though, don’t you worry,” he said, gripping Tony’s dick again and sliding and twisting is hand up and down the shaft.

Tony was making little sounds with each breath, his hips rocking up in rhythm with Corey’s strokes. “Yeah, Cor, _Cor,_ ” he broke off, letting out a huff of a breath and stilling his hips. “Now, fuck, now,” he said, and Corey let go of the stall and dropped to his knees, angling Tony’s dick straight into his mouth and sucking when the tang of precome hit his tongue. Tony leaned over him, bracing himself with his hands against the stall. It felt good, so good to have Tony’s dick filling up his mouth; Corey wanted more time here, wanted to just stuff his mouth full of Tony, but very shortly Tony was grunting and coming, and Corey worked to keep his dick deep in his mouth, swallowing around it and licking where he could, to catch it all.

Corey reached up to hold Tony’s hips still, but his left arm was tingling and unresponsive as he released Tony’s dick from his mouth and sucked in a breath, rubbing his bicep. Tony stepped away, sagging backwards onto the wall behind him. 

Corey massaged his arm, resting back on his heels. He wanted to rub his mouth to make sure he’d gotten it all, but he didn’t want to draw attention to it if he hadn’t. He just hoped he was clean as he looked up at Tony.

When Tony had gotten it together enough to open his eyes and look down, Corey held his gaze. “Next time I want to do all of it with my mouth, fuck you taste good.”

Tony laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, you can. You can. Come here.” He held out an arm and Corey gripped his hand as he stood up, like he’d been knocked down playing pick up basketball and Tony was helping him up. Tony’s forearm was strong and taught, and Corey flushed. Everything about Tony was fucking hot. It was a relief to finally let himself want all of it.

Tony had Corey’s pants open in about two seconds and lifted his hand to his mouth, licking it with an obscenely wet tongue, dirty and slow. He smiled at Corey when he grabbed his dick, their eyes locked and mouths open. 

Tony’s hand was hot and fast; he wasn’t messing around or teasing, and Corey appreciated it. The bar had been fairly empty but someone was bound to come in at some point and he was not going to be able to stop breathing when they did.

“Yeah, Tony, fuck,” he said, stepping back and leaning against the stall. 

“I’m gonna let you get it all over me,” Tony said, and Corey bit the inside of his cheek as his dick practically was humming with arousal. “But only when I say so. Just like in practice. Can you do it for me?”

And fuck, _fuck,_ Corey was never going to be able to dive with Tony again. He let out a grunt and nodded, and Tony rotated his fist and stroked harder. Corey was close. He looked up at Tony. “Tony, I’m, it’s; wanna,” he tried.

“I know baby I know. You wait for my say so.”

“Tony, Tony,” Corey babbled, letting his head roll from side to side against the stall. Tony was letting go a little at the head and just pulling him off on the upstroke, like he meant to milk Corey’s dick, and fuck, Corey wanted Tony’s mouth on him, sucking him.

He felt his balls tighten. “Tony,” he said, hearing the panic in his voice. “Shit, I,” he choked out.

“Shh, I know, I know. Wait for me,” Tony said, and he was so calm, so smooth, and Corey let the words burn down his body. _Shh,_ and _I know,_ and _wait for me_. Something unwound in him, and even as his dick was harder and his balls tighter, he felt himself on the precipice of a cliff, with Tony holding him back from falling off. 

“Yeah, okay,” he said, and his voice was thick and his limbs heavy, and he wanted to come so badly, but knew he could hold on. 

“That’s it, Cor, now. Do it,” Tony said twisting his fist and shoving it down firmly again along Corey’s dick, and Corey opened and let himself chase it, and in a handful of strokes his orgasm welled up and shot out of him, all over Tony’s stomach and belt and the floor between them.

“Fuck yeah,” Tony said, grinning, and Corey smiled up at him, hot and wet with sweat, as Tony’s clean hand tangled affectionately in the hair at the back of Corey’s neck. 

“God,” he said, and pulled Tony into him for a kiss.

**

“I don’t know what you two got up to last night,” Jameson said as he handed Corey a towel. Corey took it and shook out his hair off to the side. “But it’s like you’ve been diving together for years instead of weeks.”

“Coach, Coach,” Tony chided, taking a towel and pulling it across his skin. Corey let himself look. They were done for the day. Surely now he was allowed the distraction. “Don’t underestimate my boy CBT here,” Tony continued. “Quick study, that one.”

“Corey’s a natural; it’s true,” Jameson said. “But your timing today was exceptional, and that takes two.” He lowered his voice, almost hushed, delighted. “You guys are going to medal. I already texted Maura. No one will even be expecting you.”

Tony nodded and made a face like he was conceding the point. “But that’s coz Corey-baby listened.”

“Alright, see you tonight at my place for the video. We’ll have dinner ready. Seven okay?”

“Yep,” said Corey.

“See you,” Tony said.

They turned to walk into the locker room, Tony leading.

“Yeah, like I was the problem,” Corey said. “You just finally got your shit together is all.” He sat on the bench, opening his locker and pulling out his shampoo, bracing himself for some serious chirping.

But when Tony spoke, it wasn’t to trash talk. His voice had the same hushed delight as Jameson’s. “Forget fucking just medaling. We’ve got six weeks. We’ll be better than we’ve been. Better than them all.”

Corey held his gaze and nodded slowly. “Gold,” he agreed, and Tony grinned. Corey stood and pulled off his swimsuit. “Shower?”

Tony was already naked. “Hot tub. On me, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

_The End_


End file.
